Door Step

As I through front doorway, and swing gaze westward
waxing crescent buoyed in mid air, forgoing motions logic
If his shall ponder its creation for moments
And ponder shall call its creator to question
How moons lambent penetrate mines mind eye
that not lay middle in between mine other two eyes
but in ones chest, flowing with breath

If grasp of its logic ones eye should slip
Then created shall believe and breath in His efforts

If grasp of its logic ones eye shall breath in
Then creation not betide and one can exhale
contents of minds eye, his own truth now prevail

This still not explain how the how of moons came
Nor the ponderance of moons logic and its glistening eyes aim